


School succs

by quenive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blowjobs, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Humanstuck, M/M, and being two gross nerds, caliborn is human in this, gagging, remote controlled vibrators, the second chapter is just them chilling out on a saturday morning, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quenive/pseuds/quenive
Summary: Caliborn and Dirk decide to be kinky motherfuckers in public.The tags explain it better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I found a mostly written thing in my files (which I may or may not have forgotten about entirely), and I thought I should finish up and post. For the fucking lols and shit, this ship honestly needs more content.  
> (Tagged "underage" because they're highschoolers.)

You sit there, squirming in your seat like there's a nest of fire ants in your lap and you just want to shake them off, but you can't. You can't because they're crawling, clawing, biting, tucking themselves into every skin fold and making themselves comfortable in every pore on your person, no matter how small. They're making you want to scream and jump like a maniac, and the only thing you can really do is shift around endlessly in your seat hoping you can find a comfort spot. At least you want to squirm that much, but you can't. Not visibly at least. Your mind is roaring, thoughts barely reliable and nearly every muscle in your body clenching in desperation. The ants are merciless, and you really don't know is that a positive or negative situation to be in.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't enjoying it, and you are in no state to fib through your teeth seeing as you can't pry your denchers away from grinding against each other like you just snorted a pound of cocaine in one sitting. The pulsating sensation rushes through your body once again, and this time it seems as if though it's a notch higher. It nearly makes your breath hitch, and you nearly snap your pencil in two out of sheer surprise. You feel a pair of taunting eyes on you, but somehow you know it's not a wondering gaze an innocent civilian is shooting you. Somehow, you manage to turn your head to the direction you feel the eyes coming from, and it's certainly no surprise when you reckon that's the direction you too were turning to for 40 minutes now. You slowly creak your head backwards, attempting to get a good look of the kid who's working hard at making you such a mess.

He's there, sitting in the second to last left desk by the window. The grin on his face is a bit unsettling, but nothing you're not used to already. You look at it, and the more you stare the more you quiver up from the inside. It's like a Medusa deal with this guy and your eyes are already scanning the invisible snakes that would come out of his head instead of hair, and his dark eyes full of amusement, obvious sadism. Well, as much as they could through your dark shades. He knows you're looking at his eyes, though, and he lets you. Only for a second, you look down at his lap, a red remote he held pressed against his thigh. You watch his long and intimidating fingers brush along the side of it, and it rests on what you presume to be a button. You're full of anticipation, just waiting for him to press down. But he doesn't. He never will when he knows you're expecting it.

You quietly sigh to yourself and turn back down to your paper. There was really no need to participate in the class activities now of all times, so you just decide to doodle something in your notebook. Well, as best as you could anyways seeing as your hands were trembling beyond comprehension. You attempt to ignore the vibrations that were making up every shred of your being, and you attempt to ignore the roaring erection in your pants. So you draw him the best you knew in this state, draw him to take your mind off of what exactly he's doing. But, you kind of fail at that so you settle for drawing horses. Horses always calmed you down for some reason.

Yeah, that's nice. His name is Ash (how original of you), and he has dark grey fur with some milky white spots on it. His mane is silver, some parts carefully braided by a southern belle (who is, coincidentally, you). You skip on drawing the harness or ropes or nooses or bits, figuring that he could be free of restrictions. That'll make one of you. Your mind then creates a shitty backstory for the equine as your shaky hand works on his braids, though their shading is really fucking bad even for you . You're just about done with the one falling over his face when...

When Caliborn kicks it up a notch, and the pencil literally falls from your grip.

* * * * * * * *

Your somewhat weaker, smaller, notably fragile body slams his into the stall wall. He snarls at you, since he certainly doesn't seem to appreciate the gesture. You ain't the one in charge here, it's him. It's kind of always him, so he tugs away and buries his hand into his pocket.

You wince instantly as the setting on your vibrator is one notch away from the maximum. At times like these you'd give anything to erase that from his memory just to save your skin, but he saw it alright. And it makes him grin wider, two rows of blunt yet intimidating teeth invading your field of vision.

"Motherfuck." You mutter out quietly, bracing yourself on the opposite wall. It's cool against your back even through the shirt. For now it's your only form of leverage, only thing stopping you from falling under this dude's feet. It wouldn't be difficult to just yank your pants down and jerk off like tomorrow isn't a thing, but you're not... let's say, permitted.

"Shit, Dirk." He says, voice taunting even if he got just two words out. Knowing him, he'd even make a taunt out of a simple letter of all things. It's just endless mocking with this asshole. "You almost got us caught out there." The free space inside the tiny school bathroom stall is little to none, but he still takes a step closer without touching you. You need to be touched. You're sweating and shivering and your stomach feels like it's full of fluttering insects. "What do you have to say. In your defense?"

You bite your lip and think back. It was all this asshole's fault anyways.

The teacher called you up to the blackboard after she noticed you were drawing and not paying attention to her precious class. This would have been the end of it if he just let you be, but no. You could have done your part and went back to your seat, but hell no. You could've preserved your pride and dignity in front of the whole class, but hell fucking no. As you were writing with the chalk, he cranked it up randomly, so you snapped it in half. When apologizing, he cranked it down, leaving you feeling intense relief. The relief was not long-lived considering he randomly cranked it up, then back down again, so forth. You were a stuttering mess of a man, and you'd be damned if you didn't notice the intense concern in the teacher's eyes. Concern and suspicion.

"Sorry." You spit out, but once you see the fire in his eyes you think, no. No, fuck this. Even if you willingly agreed to this, you ain't going down without a fight. "But I'm not the one intent on outing to the whole school what kinky motherfuckers we are. Pace yourself, Jesus."

"There's no profit. Without a little risk." He shrugs it off as if you were offering him something he's indifferent about. You hate that indifference right now.

"And there's no such thing as a cleverly executed risk. Especially by you."

When he steps closer again, you're chest against chest. If you were to glance down, you'd see the shitty [System Of a Down](http://hottopic.scene7.com/is/image/HotTopic/10316712_hi?%24pdp_hero_zoom%24) shirt he's wearing. When is he not, though? The dude might have an unhealthy crush on [Shavo Odadjian](http://www.famousbirthdays.com/headshots/shavo-odadjian-2.jpg) for all you fucking know. He's been jacking his swagger for the past two years now.

You don't find it in you to move, and you don't want to move. His hands are out of his pockets and on your waist, yourself easing into his touch and finding it less difficult to just flunk down and let him support you instead of the wall.

"And you're capable. Of such risks?" His hands are inching down, and then slipping up your shirt. Your skin is burning there, but his fingers are oddly cold against it. It came as a relief, but also as a form of torture considering the huge contrast between the two skins.

"No one is." It comes out as a squeak, and if you weren't so turned on right now you'd want to wipe that smug grin off his face with a solid left hook. But you were, in fact, turned on. So much it nearly hurt. "It was a stupid move." His hands gently graze your abdomen, blunt nails scratching your skin as gently as they could. He moves them up to your chest, and you flinch when he grazes your nipple. Heavy breaths, you allow a pathetic sound to wiggle out between your lips in a sad little whimper.

"Bullshitter. You love stupid moves." Caliborn accuses, and he isn't too far off. You really can't say you don't like it when he takes control like this, when he makes you squirm for less and beg for more.

"I'd love it if you got it on already." You huff in an attempt to save your cheek from the filth that's constantly layering up. He flicks your nipple again, and you make the most disgusting little moan you did today. Your body is oversensitive so you soak up any form of satisfaction you get. As you squirm, your dick presses against the fabric of your underwear, but his knee soon joins it, settling itself neatly between your thighs. It sends a jolt of weird shit straight to your gut, your hips automatically roll down to meet it. A futile attempt to gain more friction, as he is soon to lower his knee down again. It's basically a shitty no, fuck you Dirk. Fuck you and your desperate little bullshit, he's gonna drag it on as much as he can.

Until the bell rings, anyways.

"No." He puts a word to your thoughts and you cringe as his hands leave your body. The vibrator is still deep in you, it's kind of difficult to forget it when it's buzzing away mercilessly, making your knees weak and unable to support your weight. Caliborn doesn't help with the situation. His hands find their way to your shoulders, and they just push down. It doesn't take much to actually get you down, your knees collapse as soon as the little amount of pressure is added to them. "I will not get it on. You will get it on."

"I will get it on?" You look up at him, voice one octave away from a full blown whine and eyes struggling not to beg. Even through the shades, he notices this and reaches down to take them off. You don't protest, although the sharp fluorescent light kinda stings at first. Looking up at him more clearly, he's towering up over you. He's naturally taller, but he seems like a giant, unstoppable giant from this angle. Shaved head, dark, tanned skin, eyes so sharp that you constantly feel them piercing right through you. The worst part is it feeling good, feeling so good that you don't have it in you to complain the slightest bit. He won't claim your glasses as his own by putting them on, though he folds them and hooks them onto the collar of his own shirt, indicating that you won't be getting them back any time soon. You don't really want them now, anyways. No sense in piercing the guy's thigh while you're sucking his dick.

His hand grazes your hair, fingers fucking up the hair gel as he tangles them up with your bleached locks. It hurts a bit, but mostly since you're so bent on putting a gallon of that shit on your head every fucking day. Your stomach drops a bit as you realize you'll have to face the rest of the day with messy hair. An obvious sign to everyone that you and Cal got it on in the bathroom. You wonder what your friends would say, or if they would say anything. You'd rather have them call you out than face humiliation from their disappointed looks anyways. But that isn't important right now, and your mind can't dwell on that guilt for much long.

When his hand dips down into his pocket again, your stomach also dips further in anticipation. Though, you know more than well he just won't fucking do it when you're expecting. He hums in approval, and you audibly sigh.

"You should have known by now. That you have to work hard. If you want to get what you want." 

You squirm at his voice, ass rolling while you're kneeling. The vibrator brushes against your prostate and you gasp out, which is followed by a faint shudder. His grip on your hair tightens. He pushes you forward towards the bulge in his pants. For the first time, you actually gather up enough courage to look down and observe it face-to-face. Mano a mano, two dicks having an intense staredown.

"Yeah, I know." You confirm. Your hands slide up on his clothed calves, but your right one hesitates for a brief moment while going up his prosthetic. It feels odd, the space within the jeans empty and the artificial limb hard. But you don't pause long enough for it to be noticeable, you just keep inching your hands up and stop on the outer sides of his thighs, just to position yourself and hold steady. "What if this is what I want, though? Wouldn't I have to work for this instead of having it catered to me?"

In response, he pushes your face into his crotch. You huff.

"The only sounds I want coming from your mouth. Are moans. Or the occasional call of my name." You glance up at him, and expect a frown. Though, he's smiling in a way you rarely see him smile. It makes your lips stretch wider too.

"I don't want to jamais vu it, though." You admit. Eyes falling down to look at the outline of his dick, you silently gulp and wrap your lips around it. You don't care if you get it soaked, if the fabric soaks up your spit. You just mouth it from all angles, enjoy how warm it is on your tongue and how the texture of his black jeans scratches your taste buds.

"I don't care what you do to it." He's obviously kind of inching over what you just said, but you don't mind. You're too caught up in working on his dick to have a full on discussion right now.

Your own dick just twitched in your jeans, and you roll your hips again as an attempt at moving the vibrator and getting some more friction on your aching cock. You also hear Caliborn's breathing growing a bit more unsteady, and if he wasn't fully hard before he certainly is now. Amber eyes keep darting back and forth, from the hand in his pocket to his relaxed yet tense face. You take into consideration your aching scalp, as he's still clutching your hair tightly, nearly white-knuckling that shit like he's clinging on for dear life.

It hurts more when he tugs back, you hiss and feel tears forming in the corner of your eye. Not enough to drip, but enough to fog your vision just a bit. He pulls his hand out of his pocket, and you don't know do you feel relief or disappointment. Both thoughts disappear as he gets to fondling with his button and zipper, both thoughts replaced by hunger. The insects fluttering in your stomach flap their wings harder, faster. You want to touch yourself, but you can't. Him first.

He's freeballin' today. His cock drops out as soon as he pulls his pants down. You study it with your eyes for a short moment. Not like you didn't see it before, but it always kind of snaps you back into reality when you see how heavy it looks, how it has a well amount of girth mixed with length. It's notably larger than yours, but it isn't making you self-conscious or whatever. It mostly fills you with a weird mix of respect, fear, and hunger.

"Fuck." You whisper out as one of your hands leaves his thigh and goes to take a firm grip of his cock. It's as heavy as it looks, and you lick your lips before giving the head a small kiss.

You know it riles him up, and your eyes are constantly shooting short glances up just to observe his reaction. He's blushing, even more than you. Under all that muscle, all that tough guy act, he's as mushy and feel as you. Even more, hell if you know. He's a sucker for the tender shit, and you're more than happy to indulge his kinks.

Your lips part as you smile and stick your tongue out. You lick around his crown, and you can feel him shuddering from where you're holding his thigh and his cock. Yeah, you're having the say here now, even if he thinks it's still vice versa.

You tilt it up and dip, licking a long, wet stripe up the underside of his shaft. You end the streak by wrapping your lips around it. Skillfully using your tongue, you flick his slit until he's flinching like all hell, his grip on your hair tightening more and more. Your scalp is pained and pulsing, but you kind of invite the hurt over for a fucking cup of tea because neither of you are playing around.

Well, you are. But you aren't.

He has no issues with forcing you forward. You'd have a hard time getting it in on your own anyways, and he is a very impatient dude. However, you consider dick sucking a form of underrated art. No matter how horny you are, you'll always take your sweet time and make the best out of the whole ordeal. He really doesn't relate to you, and you can't blame him. So you relax your throat and let him ease it in. You wrap your lips around it and suck gently, tongue working on the underside as much as it could while being all conflicted like that.

When his hips buck forward, you gag. The tears forming on the edge of your eyes slip down, because that's something you never had full control over. You're lucky he also knows your limits, so he pulls out. Breathing heavily, you look up at him with half lidded eyes, spit dripping down from your chin. Your hand is wrapped around his length once again, and you're jerking him off while there's still spit to work with. Your thumb brushes over his slit, and massages it until he's leaking precome. You notice the bead and your lips are on him again, gently sucking at the tip and flicking your tongue over it again. It's bitter and salty, but you don't mind.

Your fingers are digging into his clothed thigh just to stop your hand from reaching down and palming yourself. The other is tugging at his cock while you suckle on the crown.

You were so caught up in this mess, so indulged in this activity that you didn't really notice him reaching for the remote again and cranking it up to the highest setting.

The only thing both of you heard was a gasp, and then a faint buzz coming from the vibrator lodged so far up your ass it's on the verge of discovering Asslantis. He uses your gasp to shove his dick back in, once again back to face fucking you like nothing else is relevant at this moment.

And it wasn't. You're making soft noises, low-key hoping and praying no one enters the bathroom because you wouldn't want to stop yourself even if you could. You swallow around him, and he just keeps going at it. You hear him grunt occasionally, and you can't. You can't take this shit anymore, and your hand leaves the comfort at his thigh to clutch at yourself.

You're basically melting, and he lets you. It doesn't go unnoticed, no fucking way. His movements slow down, but what they lack in speed they make up for in great intensity. Caliborn's perspective must be glorious, you think. Your reddened face, lips plump and flushed. Breaths shallow and uncoordinated, you struggle with getting your dick out in the open.

You cry out around his dick, it feels so good to get some friction after all this time. Your ass rolls as you simultaneously rock your hips to fuck your hand, and use the same hand to tug at yourself with the desperation of a thirsty man in the desert.

Surprised at how little it takes you to finish, you moan around this dick as every single butterfly and moth goes batshit crazy in your gut and you come with such intensity that you forget to disgustingly gag when he shoves it deeply down your throat. You bounce your ass up and down to ride out your orgasm with the vibrator still working full-steam. A line of soft moans isn't stoppable, but Caliborn is faring better with it than you ever could. Why is he so fucking quiet and subtle? The last thing you hear is his low grunt as he releases as well.

This isn't how you planned on doing this, but you ain't complaining the slightest.

He pulls out, and you flop down, your own flacciding dick still in your hand and the only thing keeping your head up being his merciless grip on your hair. The vibrations in your ass stop, and a sigh of relief leaves your lips because it already began getting on your nerves. You eye the toilet next to you and cringe at yourself, and then gather all the semen from your throat and spit out. He doesn't seem too happy about it, but still lets go of you nonetheless.

The next time his hand is anywhere near your face, his thumb grazes your cheekbone. You notice there was an embarrassing tear there. If the change of pace wasn't so nice you'd probably swat his hand away. You like it when he's rough with you, when he marks you, but you also really fucking enjoy these bursts of tenderness and affection his post-orgasm state offers. He looks at you full of love and affection for a short moment, but you can literally see the comical double-take he made in his head before the glow in his eyes vanished completely. As if he was ashamed of emotion and love.

You'll crack him some day.

He pulls his hand away, but not completely. He still offers you a hand to pull you up, and you accept with little hesitation. Sure enough, you're yanked up quickly in one brief movement. Dude's strong like all hell. You still kind of get stomach bugs when you think about how easy it would be for him to end you, right there and then. Sometimes he wants to, you can see it in his eyes. But he never does.

"Thanks." You mumble out, and both of you are taken back by how beat down and horrible your voice sounds. Still, you take his hand, and he pulls you up.

He looks down at the mess you made on the floor and frowns. Caliborn steps on your semen to smear it around. You snort. His eyes flick back to you and he puffs in amusement, vaguely gesturing to his own chin.

"You have a little something... here."

You lift your hand up to your chin, and sure enough there was a lot of something there. Mostly your own spit. Probably looked like all shit. You squint while looking at your gross hand and open your mouth to say something, but the bell rings and you are soon to shut it.

"That's my cue." He grins and zips himself up. Your legs are shaking, you're barely standing. All in all, you're satisfied to all hell, too satisfied to get bummed about his departure.

And then he leans down to gently peck at your lips, and your butterflies are back once more.

"Yeah. I'll clean myself up and make up a lame excuse on why I'm late. Maybe I can fake an UTI again."

"Again?"

You shrug, and he just shakes his head a no, feigning disappointment.

"See you after school." Caliborn smiles, and you can't help but smile back.

"Yeah. Later."

He unlocks the door and exits the stall, and you're left alone to shape up and clean up, smiling like an idiot the whole damn time.


	2. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% necessary and all kinds of relevant.

"If every individual strove to get personal gain while disregarding the general benefit, the common weal, society is bound to collapse under the weight of its own idiocy." You mumble out and reach for the remote, but he's holding it so far away that the only way to get it would be over six and whatever feet of pure muscle. He's half-laying on the couch, arm stretched out far off the opposite edge. When you fail to reach it you huff, pulling back to sit on the other side again.

"Shut your shit, Aristotle. You'll get it when you get it." He sticks his tongue out at you like a fucking kid, and damn you to hell if you don't feel like one wrestling him for the remote. Still holding it as far away from you as possible, he switches the channel from [PB & J Otter](http://image.vam.synacor.com.edgesuite.net/7a/a4/7aa426bcab66dace77a752389863724b468d1684/w=414,h=303,crop=auto/?sig=88c390c980d4fa53d37ef16fbdc53ec3dfbad7d9fa626949827b76ae37140ac3&app=powerplay) , a show you crave with all your being, to [Generator Rex](http://watchcartoononline.com/thumbs/Generator-Rex-Season-2-Episode-16-Exposed.jpg). Something inside you stirs with an unknown feeling. Be it disappointment, rage, or something in between, you channel it out with one loud groan. Caliborn side-eye's you a bit and smirks.

You've given up on reasoning with this fucker. If this is how you're spending your Saturday morning then you'd rather be at school.

At least more interesting things happen there. Your breath gets slightly heavier as you think back to yesterday, but your whole over-all posture relaxes. You guess he then deems it safe to pull his arm back, but he still fucking lifts his ass from the couch cushion and sits on the remote. The channel didn't change, so at least he isn't butt-dialing your TV.

"So this is what we're doing now?" You ask, and bring your knees up to your chest. You're wearing plaid pajama pants and a loose black tank top. It's very fitting for the morning atmosphere you're going for. He's sprawled on the sofa next to you, feet nearly touching you, but you kind of want to take up as little space as possible. So you curl in on yourself, and you wish you were wearing some socks because your toes feel oddly cold. Two empty cereal bowls are stacked on the table. The whole apartment smells like burnt bacon and equally burned waffles. Neither of you are ever cooking again.

"Yes." He confirms. The dude was shirtless, thus making every single one of his decently defined muscles noticeable, a view you would never complain about. He's also wearing a pair of boxers [which he ironically attached a pair of suspenders to](http://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/4wwAAOxyu~lSSPWG/s-l300.jpg). One of Caliborn's legs slowly inches off the edge of the sofa until it fell down. It was the one with the prosthetic, and your eyes scan over the artificial appendage when you're convinced he isn't watching. Even if he was, he probably wouldn't really care. Dude's indifferent about a lot of things, and this isn't something that would get on his nerves. You're not to be mistaken, he's an easy bastard to piss off, but he's just so peaceful and neutral at times like these. No pressure, no stress. You kind of envy him, he seems to be doing just fine without a facade. "Unless you have better ideas. I'm sticking with this shit."

"I want my water rats." You demand and inch closer to the side. He bends his left leg at the knee to make more room for you.

"Too fucking bad." He scoffs and wiggles his ass on the remote.

The channel changes this time, and you both flinch at the sudden noise. Monster truck shows were never your cup of tea, and right now a poor Škoda Octavia was getting demolished by two tons of pure chaos. You do not have remorse towards this Slovenian brand of vehicle, so you shuffle indifferently and sink deeper into the couch.

He gets the remote back from under his ass and changes back to his shitty cartoon.

"Bet you're all kinds of proud." You mumble. He snorts, but his expression doesn't change.

"Oh. You have no idea, Dirk. I'd gift myself a medal if I could."

"What's stopping you?" You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs.

"The eye of society."

"Bullshit. Since when do you care?"

"Since we've been suspended. Until further notice." He lifts one of his asscheeks up and like a chicken, he nests over the remote in a protective manner. As if it was his child, fragile and vulnerable.

You smile at that. Oh man, your brother is going to straight up strangle you when he gets back home. You have a week of life left, and then he's going to lecture the shit out of you for "performing prohibited sexual activities within school boundaries". Caliborn spent the night with you. An innocent night, him sleeping on the very couch you're lounging on and you safe and sound on your bed.

He too is avoiding sibling confrontation, though not of the parental kind.

If you had a dollar for every time he mentioned how he's going to gut the kid who overheard you two in the bathroom, you'd be a wealthier man by a dozen buckaroos. You still smile at that, and would use those twelve bucks to pay front row tickets to the intense beat-down.

Some day, you figure. Some day.

"Touché." You shrug, and then direct all your attention to the TV in front of you. For whatever's worth, at least you're having some fun right now. Even if they weren't your beloved water rats. Honestly, dude needs to get his shit under control.

It's a nice atmosphere you're feeling right now, a really good vibe. You really do hope it lasts a few more hours.


End file.
